


Nothing Ventured (Nothing Gained)

by AccursedSpatula



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedSpatula/pseuds/AccursedSpatula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to stay,” Erron repeated. “I want to... serve you.”</p>
<p>“Who?” Kotal asked, and suddenly Erron understood how this was going to work, understood just where his little link fit into the grand chain of politics.</p>
<p>“I want to serve Kotal Kahn, Emperor of Outworld.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Ventured (Nothing Gained)

**Author's Note:**

> aright i remembered why i hate fandoms
> 
> think this is my last, peace everyone
> 
> edit--now with amazing illustration by wsecrets: http://wakingseeecrets.tumblr.com/post/121482151927/because-im-a-filthy-pig-i-dunno-but-actually
> 
> edit 2.0-- **more nsfw art at the end, be wary**

Attraction was a funny thing.

Erron had never given much thought to the logistics of it. If a pretty girl wandered into his path, so be it. There wasn’t any pursuit with him; courtship was entirely wasted effort, effort that Erron wasn’t going to spend. He had more important things to worry about.

And so, this entire thing with Kotal Kahn had snuck up on him entirely.

At first, it had been incredibly subtle, Erron doing things without even realizing it, staring a beat too long, standing an inch too close--things that could easily be interpreted as accident. Until they started stacking up, of course, to the point where Erron had noticed, had questioned his own behavior, had spent a few sleepless nights awkwardly staring up at the black ceiling, agonizingly replaying every awkward moment in his head. He was far, far too old for this.

He’d sussed out the reason for his behavior the moment he noticed the pattern, which was the cause of more sleepless nights, Erron finally working up the courage to admit to himself that he found Kotal attractive. He knew nothing would come from it, that Kotal probably didn’t even notice these things, and from then on, he let himself stand a little too close, stared longer than he should have, even found himself brave enough to pat Kotal on the shoulder once, silently appreciating the firm muscles of his shoulders and arms, trying to push down the thought of those arms pushing him into a bed and holding him down.

This time it had happened without thinking, Erron standing at his usual spot beside Kotal on the throne, hands clasped behind his back, vaguely listening to the conversation in the room, following it at points. Most of it didn’t concern him, just between Kotal and his economic advisors, and the only thing Erron cared about on that front was if the Empire had enough to pay him. So far, they always had.

Motion had briefly caught his eye, Kotal gesturing during some explanation, and one of the orange feathers of his headdress had pinched in the plates of his collar, stuck fast. Without thinking Erron had reached over and pried it free, letting his hand sit for half a second too long on the back of Kotal’s shoulder. Kotal had whipped around and stared at him, his expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. He didn’t say anything, though, just refocused his attentions on those in the throne room, Erron going back to his role as fly on the wall.

They were dismissed shortly thereafter, Erron following the crowd out, Kotal standing at the top step of the dais to watch his subjects leave.

“Black,” he said, and Erron looked over. “I would have a word with you, in private, if you have the time.”

Kotal’s tone told Erron he had to make the time, even if he didn’t have it. “Of course,” Erron said, keeping any anxiety out of his voice.

Kotal lingered on the step for a moment, before turning and sitting once more upon the throne, settling himself. Erron waited, arms crossed, eyes tracking the the last of the departing audience.

“What’s the purpose of all this, Black?” Kotal asked, propping one elbow on the arm of his throne, resting his head against his hand.

Erron glanced over. “What do you mean?”

“Did you believe your actions have gone unnoticed?” Kotal leaned back. “Wearing a mask does not conceal all that you wish it to.”

_Well, fuck._

Erron frowned, pursed his brow. “I’m sorry if I--”

“Save your words.” Kotal lowered his arm, drummed his fingers on arm of his throne as Erron waited silently, looking down deferentially. “Regardless of what you may argue, it seems clear to me that you never intended to conceal your intentions, and that you were, as you say, ‘testing the waters.’”

Erron waited a beat, chewing his lip behind his mask. He’d been found out; no sense in trying to pull the wool over Kotal’s eyes. “Sounds about right.”

Kotal nodded, slowly, considering, wheels turning behind his eyes. He never was the type to take anything lightly, and Erron wondered what was next--a dismissal, dock in his pay, or just a sternly-worded warning, one that Erron knew Kotal absolutely had the power to back up.

“Then I propose a choice to you,” Kotal said, straightening up slightly on the throne. “You may walk through that door, and we will never speak of these actions again, provided you desist with them. If you choose to stay, I will give you the opportunity to prove your... dedication to my service.”

The implication in his tone was clear. Erron looked at the door, gave it a long beat of consideration.

“What is your decision?” Kotal pressed, pulling Erron from his racing thoughts.

He turned back to Kotal. “I want to stay.”

“Hm?” Kotal drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne.

“I want to stay,” Erron repeated. “I want to... serve you.”

“Who?” Kotal asked, and suddenly Erron understood how this was going to work, understood just where his little link fit into the grand chain of politics.

“I want to serve Kotal Kahn, Emperor of Outworld.”

A smile played on Kotal’s lips. “Then approach me.”

Erron moved forward, hesitantly, climbed the steps of the dais, noted the skulls littered at the base. He stopped at the edge of the dais, a few feet away from Kotal, gaze still on the floor. Kotal leaned forward, peered up at him, and Erron quickly made eye contact before looking back down at his feet.

Kotal stood, closed the gap between them, beckoned him closer, close enough to touch now. Erron swallowed thickly, not sure what to expect. He remained perfectly still as Kotal reached for him, thick fingers skimming over the edge of the leather mask at his jaw, trailing down his neck, stopping at the straps of his bandolier.

As Kotal began unbuckling it, Erron reached to help him, unused to the feeling of being appraised, wanting to help if only to distract himself. Kotal shooed his hands away, the bandolier coming loose in and falling to the side, Kotal dropping it casually to the floor. Erron let him work at the ties and straps of his leather armor, discarding it without a care, until the chestplate fell away, Kotal’s large hand running over Erron’s chest, mapping it out through the thin fabric of his black undershirt.

Kotal untucked it from his pants, Erron lifting his arms to let Kotal pull it over his head, and then those hands, warm and rough, were back on him, trailing over his ribs, his stomach, a thumb flicking over his nipple.

With one hand, Kotal teasingly undid the buttons on his pants, taking his time, Erron going redder and redder behind the mask. Kotal dipped his hand lower, cupping Erron through his pants, lingering for just a moment, and Erron’s stomach dropped, the blood rushing south. Kotal chuckled in response, amused.

He slipped Erron’s pants down to mid thigh, appreciatively cupping his ass, squeezing, moving further upward to trace his spine briefly before coming back around to the center of his chest. Kotal focused his attentions on the scars littering Erron’s arms, frowning curiously at them, before his gaze dropped, settling between Erron’s thighs.

Erron bit his lip. Kotal glanced up, looked him in the eye. Dark. Approving.

He turned, let go of Erron, settled back in the throne as Erron undid his boots and shucked his pants off with his legs, stepping out of them and looking to Kotal for further instruction.

“Closer,” Kotal ordered. Erron stepped forward, standing between Kotal’s knees. “Kneel.”

Erron knelt, resting on his heels. Kotal straightened up, reached for the mask on Erron’s face, Erron’s eyes widening a fraction of an inch. He’d never taken it off in front of Kotal, in front of anyone, really, not in years. As far as he was concerned, the bottom of his face was the mask.

Kotal hesitated, curled his fingers, brushed the side of Erron’s mask. “You trust me with your life, but not to see your face?” he asked, not scornful, but slightly wounded.

Erron didn’t have a comeback for that. He lowered his eyes, reached for the buckle at the side, undid it mechanically, without thinking, and then pulled the mask free, kneading it in his fingers as he straightened up, looked Kotal in the eye. He felt the sharp outline of the scar on his mouth, slashed diagonally through his lips, rough at the edges, faded after all these years but still unsightly and angry, impossible to ignore.

Erron hid it not because he felt ugly, but because it was a reminder of his shame, a reminder of a fight he’d lost that he shouldn’t have, a reminder of failure and weakness.

Kotal leaned forward, reached for Erron, large, warm hand grasping the left side of Erron’s face, Kotal’s thumb tracing over that scar. Kotal’s expression was curious, and Erron knew he wanted the story, that he was thinking of all the scenarios where Erron could’ve earned that scar. Kotal would be disappointed with the truth.

Kotal thumbed his lower lip, and Erron parted his lips, Kotal sliding his thumb into Erron’s mouth. Erron closed his lips around it, knowing that this was what Kotal wanted to see, and although he was unwilling to be coquettish and winsome, he wouldn’t deny that he was eager.

After a moment of amusement, Kotal slid his thumb from Erron’s mouth, undid his breechcloth at the side, pulled it over his thigh. His cock was stiff, not fully hard, and Erron realized that Kotal had been aroused just from ordering him around, from teasing Erron and stripping him.

Strong fingers cupped the back of Erron’s skull, Kotal’s other hand stroking his cock a few times, hardening in his palm. He pressed the head to Erron’s lips, smearing a bead of clear fluid from the head of his cock over them. After a moment, Erron passively parted his lips, looking up and keeping eye contact as Kotal urged his head forward, exhaling harshly as Erron took him into his mouth.

Erron bobbed his head, tongue running on the underside of Kotal’s cock, careful to keep his teeth out of the mix. Reluctantly, he’d admit that this wasn’t his first time; he’d been on a lot of long rides in his younger days, just him and a partner, no one around for miles in the starlit desert. These things happened, although no one ever talked about them; everyone denied it, demonized it if ever mentioned. Erron had been the same.

And of course Kotal noticed, from the moment Erron hollowed his cheeks and sucked softly at the head of his cock, practiced.

“Just how many others have you ‘served,’ Black?” he questioned, holding Erron’s head still as he shallowly thrust into his mouth. Erron closed his eyes, a shiver running through him. He’d never been submissive like this before, never let someone take the lead and literally use him, and Erron didn’t know if the feeling pooling in his stomach was shame or arousal or both.

Kotal tightened his fingers in Erron’s hair, keeping him still as he continued to thrust into Erron’s mouth, moaning sharply when Erron gagged and swallowed. Erron’s cock twitched between his thighs, stiffening, undeniably interested, and he pressed his palm to it, carefully closing his fingers around his erection.

Erron flicked his gaze up at Kotal as Kotal slid his cock from Erron’s mouth, slick, hard, leaking fluid from the tip, Kotal wrapping his fingers around it and tugging harshly, Erron still held firmly in place. He wanted to reach a hand up to his chin and wipe away the trail of saliva, but he kept his eyes on Kotal, waiting. Kotal’s expression was concentrated desire, eyes half-lidded under his helm, mouth parted, breathing ragged, hand still working his cock.

Erron flinched when Kotal finished, shutting his eyes as hot fluid hit his face, Kotal groaning, flexing his fingers at the back of Erron’s head. Despite the humiliation, Erron felt his cock jerk under his hand, hard now, Erron pursing his brow in an attempt to hide his arousal.

He opened his eyes as Kotal gently carded his fingers through his hair, releasing Erron’s skull. Erron darted his gaze up to Kotal’s face, hand still pressed to his groin, unsure of what to do next, tilting his head down and staring at the floor.

“You’re hardly presentable, especially for my court,” Kotal commented. “I would suggest you clean yourself.”

Erron turned, about to stand and go find his shirt to wipe off with, when Kotal boxed him in with his leg. Erron looked back, Kotal trailing a fingertip under his chin before wiping away one of the white streaks on Erron’s chin with his thumb, slipping it back into Erron’s mouth. Erron obediently licked it clean.

Slowly, he wiped a smear off his cheek with his index finger, licking it off before finding the next one. He was a goddamn wreck and he knew it, hair a tangled mess, face covered in saliva and semen, flushed and embarrassed as he cleaned himself off. He stole one glance at Kotal’s face, his expression dark and bemused, one elbow propped up on the arm of his throne, resting his head against his hand.

Erron gathered the last bit off his cheekbone, beaded it up on his finger and licked it off, salty and bitter on his tongue. He’d never been one for swallowing, finding the taste off-putting. Erron sat back on his heels, hands between his legs, covering his erection, waiting for Kotal to instruct him. Eager, a little restless, he rubbed against his wrist and his hand, seeking some friction, trying to be discreet, but Kotal saw, narrowed his eyes.

"I do not recall giving you permission to touch yourself," he said, and Erron stopped, placing his hands on the tops of his thighs instead.

Kotal nudged him up at the shoulder, smirking when Erron refused to move his hands. He gave Erron a quick once over, peering past him to the pile of Erron’s clothes just beyond the dais.

“I trust you have something we can use as slick?” he asked, looking back to Erron.

“I... I should,” he answered, looking away, the implication dawning on him.

Erron turned, left the dais, rummaged through his clothes to find the bottle of neatsfoot oil he kept stashed in a pouch. It worked well enough for keeping his leather articles in good condition; it would work well enough here.

He approached the throne again, stopping just at the foot, thumbing the top of the bottle in his hand. “I’ve never done this before,” Erron admitted, Kotal cocking a brow at the statement. “Just hands. And my mouth. Never...”

“I would have you be a willing participant, Black,” Kotal commented. “Should we continue or look for--”

Erron cut him off. “Just... go slow.” He climbed up the few stairs, ready to kneel between Kotal’s legs once more, but Kotal reached for him, spun him around at the hip, running a hand appreciatively down the outside of Erron’s leg. Kotal yanked Erron backwards a second later, pulled him into his lap, Kotal’s stiff cock pressed into the inside of Erron’s thigh, strong arms ensnaring his torso.

Kotal’s hands roamed Erron’s chest, pinched and teased his nipples, cupped his pecs, raked down the muscles of his stomach. It was overwhelming, Erron twisting against Kotal, hot skin pressed to his back, rough hands on his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath when Kotal’s hands ran down his thighs, grasping the backs of his knees, pulling them towards his chest, draping Erron’s legs over the arms of the throne.

“Kotal,” Erron gasped as Kotal’s hands slid to the insides of his thighs, running up toward his groin, deliberately avoiding his cock. Erron felt exposed and open, vulnerable, Kotal’s hands keeping him in place. He flinched when a fingertip pressed at his entrance, trying to close his thighs, Kotal gently pushing back, keeping them spread.

“Do you wish me to stop?” Kotal asked. Erron looked at the door, well aware someone could walk in here, see them like this.

“No,” Erron replied, voice low. “No, sir.”

Kotal held his hand out. Erron pressed the bottle into his palm.

A moment later there was a slick fingertip prodding at him, rubbing slow circles at Erron’s hole. Erron let out a shaky breath, searching for something to do with his hands, kneading his own thigh in nervousness. Kotal stroked Erron’s thigh, almost soothingly, reaching for Erron’s cock, fisting him slowly, and Erron relaxed a hair, until that fingertip pressed a little deeper, breached him.

It felt strange, not immediately pleasurable, more of an unwelcome intrusion, and Erron tensed up, his whole body going rigid. Kotal held him, toyed with his cock and slowly sank his finger deeper, Erron trying to adjust to the sensation. He bit back a groan as Kotal slid his finger out and pushed back in, just teasing, a test, and Erron responded by rolling his hips, pushing back. Kotal repeated the motion, settling into a rhythm, slow, letting Erron adjust to the sensation.

Erron squirmed as Kotal slid his finger out completely, wondering if he’d done something wrong, if he’d unintentionally disobeyed, but then there were two fingers, very slick now, easing their way into him. Erron sighed, digging his nails into his thigh, Kotal’s thick fingers thrusting slowly into him, working their way deeper as his other hand working Erron’s cock, hard, dripping, Kotal teasing the head with his thumb, smearing precome from the slit.

Kotal crooked his fingers inside of Erron, pressing upwards and sliding out, until Erron shuddered in his arms, warm pleasure pooling in his lower stomach. Suddenly he understood, suddenly the buggery and the rumors of sodomy made sense, because if it felt like this, if it felt like this even _half_ the time, well...

“What--” he choked out, about to ask what it was, but Kotal pressed against that spot in him again, Erron breaking off into a moan, leaning back against his chest, instinctively pushing down on those fingers. Kotal pressed on that spot, moved his fingers in a circle against it, steady, even, Erron’s cock jerking in his grasp.

Erron sighed when Kotal added a third finger, stretching him wider, the sound wet and lewd, Erron involuntarily clenching around Kotal’s digits each time Kotal chose to brush that spot inside him. Three was good, felt more like a deliberate act and less like an awkward intrusion, Kotal’s thick fingers crooked inside him.

He almost whimpered when Kotal pulled his fingers out, feeling empty and oversensitive, having been caught up in the sensations, but then Kotal was grabbing his legs again, backs of his knees, pulling them back to slide his hips under Erron’s, his cock pressing into Erron’s slick taint now, teasing his hole. Erron sucked in a sharp breath, unsure, fingers clawing at the side of the throne.

“Hold yourself open,” Kotal ordered, voice low. Erron obeyed, dug his fingers into the backs of his knees and spread his thighs for Kotal.

Erron bit his lip as Kotal pushed in, overwhelmed, rhythmically squeezing his thighs as Kotal’s cock inched deeper, filling him, big, almost too big. He groaned through gritted teeth when he felt Kotal bottom out, still in mild disbelief that this was happening, that Kotal had _let_ this happen. Kotal snapped him out of it, encouraging Erron to lower his thighs, letting them go slack, Kotal’s thick arms caging his chest.  

Kotal’s first shallow thrust drove right into that spot inside him, Kotal pushing off the floor, flexing his thighs beneath Erron. Erron clasped his hands over Kotal’s, breathing raggedly, glancing from the closed doors down to his hard cock, red at the tip, begging to be touched. He wanted to give in, he really did, but Kotal had ordered him not to, and Erron wasn’t going to chance ending their encounter over it.

Kotal kept fucking up into him, bouncing Erron on his lap like he weighed nothing, Erron just holding on, jerking each time that pleasure flashed through him. He leaned his head back, eyes half-lidded, rolling his hips to push back against Kotal each time, his groin tight, skin prickling.

One of Kotal’s hands reached up, grasped Erron’s chin and turned his head to the side, exposing his neck, Kotal sucking a dark mark in into the side of Erron’s throat before biting him. Fingers pressed at his lips and Erron opened his mouth obediently, moaning around Kotal’s fingers. He tried to look down when he felt a hand on his thigh, but Kotal held him there, craned his neck back, kneading the inside of Erron’s thigh, so close to his cock, so close to giving him the few tugs, the bit of friction he needed to push him over, but refusing to, touches dancing just on the edge of where Erron needed them.

Kotal’s strokes were smooth, even, Erron relaxed and focused on the sensation of Kotal’s thick cock sliding out of him, on the slick between his thighs, on the flashes of pleasure stringing him along. He began to thrust harder, pulling Erron’s body down with each push upwards, Erron rolling his hips to drive Kotal’s cock into that spot. Erron's cock was so hard it _hurt_ , and he was close, so close, just needing a bit more friction or a few tugs on his cock.

Suddenly Kotal’s hand slid over, wrapping his index finger and thumb tightly around the base of Erron’s erection, squeezing it like a vice. Erron hissed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to come now, not until Kotal let him, clawing at Kotal’s hand under his grip. Those fingers withdrew from his mouth, Kotal now clasping his throat, not hard but definitely possessive.

“Who do you belong to, Black?” Kotal growled, thrusting up harder into Erron. Erron arched against him.

“You,” Erron ground out.

“Who?” Kotal repeated, tips of his fingers digging into Erron’s chest.

“Kotal Kahn,” Erron murmured, almost breathless. Kotal let go of his cock, Erron sighing in relief, thighs tensing as he felt that familiar pressure building in his lower stomach, his cock bobbing each time Kotal bucked up into him.

“Are you going to come for me?” Kotal said, voice low, lips close to Erron’s ear, breath hot on his neck, rough fingertips digging into his throat, and that was it, that was the last little push Erron needed.

Erron stifled a shout as he came, _hard_ , trying to pull his thighs together, clenching and bearing down on Kotal’s cock, twitching and twisting and shuddering in Kotal’s grasp, his skin prickling all over, closing his eyes and seeing stars, Kotal slowing his thrusts to prolong Erron’s pleasure. After a moment his breathing slowed, coming down from the high, shivering as a trail of semen ran down his untouched cock, Kotal still inside him, one hand tracing nothings on Erron’s hip in a soothing manner.

Kotal resumed thrusting, slowly building up to a good pace, Erron pliant in his lap, just letting Kotal do as he pleased, oversensitive. It still felt good, a little strange now that the haze of lust had worn off, but Erron didn’t mind, drawing small circles on Kotal’s knuckles with his fingertips.

The hand on his thigh wandered over to his groin, teasing the base of Erron’s cock, still not completely soft. Erron almost shuddered at the touch, grunting, reaching down to pull Kotal’s hand away, but it was futile, useless. Kotal bit his neck, a hand raking down Erron’s chest, again pulling him down on each upward thrust, almost brutal now, his fingers curling around Erron’s cock, starting to roughly stroke him.

“Kotal,” Erron protested, still lightly tugging at Kotal’s wrist, “I can’t. Too soon.”

“You can,” Kotal snapped, not breaking his rhythm. “And you will.”

Resigned, Erron closed his eyes, toughing it out for a few moments until his interest began to reluctantly return, cock stiff in Kotal’s grip, Erron pushing up into Kotal’s fist before sinking back down onto his cock. He moaned, low, trying to keep his voice down, breaking off into sharp pants. The lewd squish of Kotal’s hand on his cock, Kotal’s own ragged breathing, and the slap of skin against skin were the only other noises in the room, and Erron was mildly impressed with how quiet they had managed to be.

He wanted to be loud. Later. Another time.

Soon Erron was grinding against Kotal, almost there, almost at the edge again, unable to bite back the moan this time. He shut his eyes and arched his back, resting the back of his head against Kotal’s shoulder, convulsing as pleasure wracked his body again, a desperate “ _Oh, fuck,_ ” slipping past his lips. A second later Kotal’s hand stuttered on Erron’s cock, his hips jerking erratically as he grunted harshly into the side of Erron’s neck, and Erron groaned at the feeling of hot fluid inside him.

They stayed like that, stuck together, sweat drying on skin, breathing evening out, until Kotal shifted beneath Erron, urging Erron forward, his cock slipping free of Erron’s body. Erron grimaced, feeling wet and open, frowning at the trickle of fluids down his thighs.

Carefully, he stood, noting the white smear on the floor between his legs, embarrassed, realizing that someone was going to clean that, that someone was going to know what they’d done. Pushing the thought from his mind, he grabbed his boots and pants and stepped down from the dais, down the few stairs, trying to make heads or tails of his clothes.

He busied himself pulling on his pants, carelessly doing them up, and then finding his shirt, yanking it over his head. The boots were next, and then Erron was working on his armor, doing all of the buckles, and then snatching his bandolier and mask off the floor. He didn’t notice Kotal until Kotal was beside him, turning Erron at the shoulder, taking the mask from his hand as Erron finished adjusting his bandolier.

Erron reached for the mask, but instead Kotal turned it, pressed the front to Erron’s face and slid the strap around the back of his head, meticulously doing the buckle at Erron’s ear. Erron felt useless, dropping his arms to his sides, staring at a spot on the other side of the room until Kotal finished, brushing some of Erron’s hair out of his face.

“How do I look?” Erron said, more than a drop of sarcasm in his voice.

“Passable, not presentable,” Kotal admitted, giving Erron a full once-over from where he stood.

“Am I dismissed, then?”

“For now.”

Erron nodded, stepped back, pretended he didn’t notice the bemused look Kotal gave him, the stupid little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> nsfw below, art courtesy of wsecrets
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://imgur.com/K5tZ374)  
> 
> 
> original tumblr post: http://wakingseeecrets.tumblr.com/post/123171526227/giant-blue-dick-lol-based-on-accursedspatulas


End file.
